Oct. 8, 2026: I’m currently working on the first draft of the fourth book in the Foundation series. It’s tentative titled “The Stones of Truth,” and as I said, is a long way from completion. But just to whet your appetite, here is an excerpt from Chapter 9, where protagonist speaks at the funeral of his father:
Ezra estimated at least two hundred people in the audience as the funeral directors led the three siblings in to sit in the front row of the church. A cluster of white lilies decorated the casket, and Ezra smiled to himself, glad that the florist had gotten his order straight.
The funeral director got up and read a brief bio of Hezekiah’s life, starting with his ministry in the backwoods of Tennessee in the late 1960s. Then a teenage girl from the church stepped forward and sang “How Great Thou Art,” accompanied by the baby grand piano by the stage. Then the funeral director nodded in Ezra’s direction.
He still had no idea what he was going to say as he walked forward. He had so many mixed feelings it was difficult to sort them out, especially with such short notice and in front of an audience. He stood and cleared his throat, wishing he had written something down.
“Hello, I’m Ezra, the oldest son of Hezekiah. It’s been eighteen years since I was in this church, and I have a lot of catching up to do. I know that many of you are here because my father said something or did something that led you to Jesus Christ. And I am happy for that. I am happy for you. Dad touched a lot of lives in his ministry over the years. A lot of baptisms, weddings. Funerals.” He paused and looked down at the casket with his father’s body inside it.
“I have a lot of fond memories of my father. He took me to a baseball game once in Memphis. We went fishing a couple of times. Remember that, Micah? And I remember, quite clearly, how much he loved our mother. She was the glue that held our family together. And when she died, it took something out of him. It is a challenge for anyone to raise three children on their own, and my father struggled.
“I will be the first to tell you, my father was no saint. He was human, very human. I won’t tarnish your memory of him with the details. But some of us have an unfortunate voice inside us cheering because he isn’t here on this earth anymore.”
He paused. “But that’s not right either. I left here eighteen years ago because I couldn’t stand to live under my father’s roof anymore. I also left God at the time. Since then, I have found my way back to God, or rather, God has pursued and found me, and with that I have learned to forgive.
“We don’t choose our fathers. But we can choose to forgive them.” He looked across the congregation, wondering how many of them struggled with their relationship with their father.
“I forgive my father for what he did to me, and I can honestly say that I love him. I look at my brother and my sister,” he gestured toward Martha and Micah, “and encourage them to forgive as well. For it’s by forgiving that we move ahead in life. God forgives us, so we must learn to forgive others.” He looked at Micah and Martha, who stared at him with grief on their faces.
“My father was far from perfect. He was a much better preacher than a father. And I am going to give all of you a chance to share stories about how he touched your lives. But first I wanted to share a scripture that my father had me memorize, one that means a lot to me.”
He then began reciting Isaiah 43:1-3:
“But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. For I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.”
The ceremony continued for another 45 minutes after Ezra sat down, as many local residents stood up and shared how they became Christians because of Pastor Huddleston. After a few minutes, Micah stood up and walked out while others were still giving their testimonies.
Should I go after him? Ezra thought. No, he has to deal with his grief in his own way. There will be time later.
And there was time later. Martha, Micah, and Ezra stood beside the lonely graveside as their father’s casket was lowered into the hole in the ground. Ezra had decided he had said enough, and held his words back, allowing the other two to speak.
“Thank you for saying what you did, Ezra,” Martha said.
“Yeah, thanks, Ez,” Micah added. “You said what I couldn’t say. And I just have to learn to forgive now.”
“It’s not easy,” Ezra said. “I have people in my life that I desperately want to change, but I have to accept that they will always be who they are. It’s just the way God made them. And so the only way out is to forgive them. I don’t do it for them. I do it for me.”
Martha put her arm around Ezra. “You know, big brother, I kinda like having you around. Now that the elephant in the room is gone, maybe you can find a way to come around more often.”
“Yeah,” Micah said. “You still haven’t seen Adrian play yet.”
“Thinking about it,” Ezra said. “Thinking about it really hard.”
They started walking away from the gravesite, and Micah stopped Ezra.
“I want you to know that I have decided to stop drinking,” he said. “I owe it to Adrian and you two. I owe it to Dad.”
“You owe it to yourself,” Ezra said. “I’m proud of you.”
“But you know, it would sure be a lot easier if I had a big brother around to keep an eye on me.”
Ezra didn’t answer, but walked on toward his car, thinking.
